Paris
by MyTwiDreams
Summary: Fashion Journalist Victoria meets a young Design Student called Ali. They are in the city of love but is love what the red-head is searching for? /Femslash/ / Outtake for WTHN


[Disclaimer] Everything Twilight belongs to Mrs. Stephenie Meyer

[A/N] A little bunny in my head forced me to write this down. It's part of the madness that is **WTHN**. Hope you'll like

****Paris****

I watch her from my table at the other end of the café, her desperate attempts to speak French to the waitress being a welcomed distraction from the boring column I'm trying to write. Somehow it feels like I'm repeating myself over and over again every week but this job is necessary as it provides me with a steady income. Living in Paris is a dream but that dream is unfortunately quite expensive to live.

The little dark-haired beauty has managed to order some coffee and I like the way she bites her lower lip nervously while her eyes stay focused on the sheet of paper in front of her. It looks as if she's drawing something. My eyes flicker down her body, she's a bit too thin but I'm sure her perky breasts would still fit perfectly into my hands. The thought excites me and I try to remember the last time I have been with a woman. It feels like ages to me.

Eventually I stand up from my chair and cross the distance between us with a few graceful steps. When I'm directly in front of her table I drop my handbag—accidentally, of course.

Nice girl she is, she instantly kneels down and helps me to pick it up again. Her French is one of the crappiest once I've ever heard but I like the sound of her voice a lot. I listen to it for a few minutes before I speak up, trying to keep my eyes focused on her face instead of scanning her body. She has nice legs too. I bet they'd look even better wrapped around my hips. Steady, Victoria. You have to take this slow. Figure out if she's interested in women at all.

"Hi, I'm Victoria and you are?"

"My name is Ali and you could have told me that you speak English. I really suck at French, it's so complicated."

I smile at her and she smiles back, her cheeks reddening into a bright crimson color. A girl that blushes is something new. I wonder how often I will manage to make her blush before she lands in my bed. I really want her there. She's hot somehow.

"I could teach you some more if you want to."

I could teach you French in more than one way, sweetie…

"Really, that would be awesome. I've been here for almost four months but I still can't speak properly."

"What are you doing in Paris?"

"School, I want to become a Designer."

I look down at the paper on the table and take a glimpse at the dress she's scrawled on it. Damn it, it looks better than a lot of stuff I've seen in the last time. She's talented and I take the sketch in my hands to take a closer look.

"Don't look at that. It's horrible."

"No, it's not. Actually it's pretty good apart from the color. Purple is so eighties."

"What color would you like it to have?"

"Black…or maybe a dark ruby red. Can I see some more of your work?"

"What for?"

"I'm interested in everything that has to do with Fashion. It's part of who I am and for what I work as well. I write a column for the French issue of Vogue."

"Really? Oh my God, that's so impressive. I bet you know a lot of important people. Models and…,"

"Models are the most boring people on earth." I tell her, handing her the sketch back. My fingers brush against hers and I smile when I see her cheeks darkening a few shades again.

We continue talking and I find out that she's originally from Seattle, the youngest of three siblings and that her parents have thrown a massive fit against her coming here to attend the Fashion Academy. When she tells me that part her light brown eyes narrow angrily and although she tries very hard to overplay it there is incredible sadness in her voice when she mentions the fact that her father doesn't talk to her at all.

What kind of a father does something like that? I think of my own and the thought leaves a bitter aftertaste in my mouth. Arrogant asshole, I hope he and his stupid wife drink themselves into a delirium. Money can't buy you everything, Mr. Whitlock and hopefully someday you'll find out about that.

I ask her to attend a party with me tonight and when I pick her up in front of her house—she lives in the shittiest part of town—I'm pleased to see that she has chosen to wear a tiny little nothing of a dress. During the drive to the party, I lean forward, pretending to search for something in the glove box just to have a good excuse to rub my forearm a little bit against her bare thigh. When I do that I hear a little gasp escaping her pouty lips. She has tinted them in some ruby color and I feel like having her ruin my white blouse all over with it. I want her and because I mostly get everything I want, I will have her.

"Do you have a boyfriend back home?" I ask her, letting my fingers grace over the long curls of her jet-black hair.

"No, I'm single. My girlfriend…," Her face turns a bit red again when she says that. "My girlfriend and I broke up before I came here. We decided it would be better just to be friends when we are so far apart from each other."

Staying friends is the stupidest thing to do in my eyes. There is always a reason why things between two people don't work out and staying friends only makes everything more complicated.

However, I'm beyond thrilled about her girlfriend confession. At least she scores for the right team. Not that there is anything wrong with switching teams now and then. I'm very openly bi, refusing to give up one gender for the other when I enjoy having sex with both of them so very much.

"Are you…with someone?" she whispers nervously and I want so badly to run my tongue over the tip of hers when she licks her bottom lip.

"No, I'm not."

"Good…ahm, I mean, I'm sorry that you haven't found the right one yet."

"You are a dear girl. I'm not looking for the right one. I'm looking for someone to have a little fun with." Or a little more fun, I add in my head.

I manage to find a parking lot that is not crowded and as we make our way inside the hotel where today's event is being held I take her hand in mine and circle my thumb over her wrist.

She gives me one of her shy smiles and although I usually can't stand people being shy I have to admit that it's kind of adorable on her.

"What about love?" she mutters, as we step inside the elevator. I take her hand and blow a kiss over her dainty knuckles, enjoying how her eyes start to sparkle a bit when I do that.

"Love comes to those who need it and I don't feel like I need it right now."

"But that's so unromantic."

"Life is not some sort of corny novel. Hasn't anyone told you about that?"

"No,"

"Well, then I guess it's time."

I press the stop button and wrap my right arm around her waist to pull her close to me. I kiss her mouth and for a moment she seems too puzzled to return the kiss but then I flicker my tongue playfully against her lips and eventually she parts them enough so that I can slip between them. The low moaning noises she keeps making find a magically way straight to my core. I wished I could take her right here and make her climax while I can watch her face in the mirrors around us…

Then an alarm starts beeping and I pull back. She pulls out a tablet tube and swallows on of the little pills without water, before she shoves the rest of them back into her handbag.

"What was that? Are you sick or something?"

"No, I'm fine thanks. Those are just vitamins."

Oh yes, sure…

"Do you really want to go to that party? There will only be boring people who enjoy getting drunk around each other."

"I don't know. I've never been drunk before in my life. Maybe it's fun."

I'd rather have a different kind of fun with you than holding your pretty hair while you empty your stomach after a few glasses of wine.

"We could go back to your place and you could show me more of your sketches."

"Do you really think I'm talented?"

"You are, most definitely. I know you'll make it big when you get involved with the right people. The best thing that could happen to you is catch the attention of someone with money. Those people always look for a good kind of distraction."

"I don't know if what I'm designing is any good. My father said it's just a stupid hobby."

"What does he do for a living?"

"He's a doctor and he wanted me to go to Med School too. It was his dream for me."

"And what is your dream?"

"I don't really know yet. But back home it was as if I couldn't breathe. My parents are so overly protective and I couldn't deal with that any longer. I need to make my own mistakes whether they approve of that or not."

We could do so many lovely mistakes together...

I kiss her again and this time my fingers move down her spine until I reach the small roundness of her backside. Such a cute little ass, I think, circling my fingers around it for a few moments.

"I'm sorry, I can't." she whispers, taking a step back from me. I smile at her and try to suppress the feeling of disappointment. She's young and shy but that's nothing we can't work on. She kissed me back and that's all that matters. I can start another attempt on seducing her when she had a bit of champagne. Just a tiny bit so that she relaxes but not enough to dazzle her completely.

An hour later I have introduced her to two Designers who have attended the same School she's going to. Both of them are delighted when I praise her work and one of them actually offers her to bring some stuff into his office. She smiles all over her face and nips on the glass of Champagne I have ordered for her.

"I'm a bit dizzy. Am I drunk yet?"

"From one glass? You weren't kidding when you said that you haven't tried Alcohol before. Let me bring you home so that you can lay down a bit."

I drive her back to her apartment and when I open the passenger's door of the car she stumbles into my arms.

"Am I pretty?"

"Very much,"

She smiles against my lips before she presses her mouth against mine. Her tongue moves between my lips and I whimper when I feel one of her hands moving slowly up my ribs. She cups my left breast and somehow I manage it to follow her into her apartment without letting go of her mouth. Kissing her is sweet, like all about her and I haven't had sweet in a very long time, so it's tempting.

"I want to make love to you."

Jeez, Vic, what in heaven's name was that? I want to make love to you? Seriously? That's not how you talk usually. You want to fuck her and that's the word you should have used.

"Yes," she mumbles, pulling me inside her tiny bedroom. The entire apartment looks horrible to me. It's too loud and I don't know with how many people she's sharing it with, just that it's too many.

"I don't have candles here, sorry."

"Doesn't matter to me. Come here now and give me a kiss."

I pull the zipper of her dress down while I suckle her tongue between my lips. I want to feel that pretty little tongue between my legs and thinking about that soaks the material of my thong within seconds.

When I push her back against the pillows, her big eyes become even bigger. There are too many questions in them. Maybe she was lying about the girlfriend thing. Or maybe they hadn't done it yet before they broke up…

"Relax, baby." I whisper, circling my hand down her flat stomach. When I move my thumb lazily over the fabric of her panties she whimpers slightly. I can feel that she's starting to get wet and I stroke her gently until the cotton feels completely damp against my fingertips. Then I pull it down and dip my tongue deeply between the moist shimmering lips of her bare pussy. She tastes delicious, sweet and innocent.

I continue licking her greedily, focusing my attention on the tiny pearl of her clit before I shove two of my fingers inside her. Her pussy feels tight against them and when I thrust back and forth in order to find her sensitive spot her entire body starts trembling. While she climaxes she's beautiful, like a pearl. Or no, not like a pearl, more like a little uncut diamond. I decide that I want her to be mine.

I suck at this whole love and romance shit. It's not who I am. I'm finding it hard to believe in that kind of things but that's probably normal if you grow up being the dirty little secret of some rich fucker who has done nothing but sent a monthly check on each first until I turned eighteen. There must be more that you can expect from a father to do but things are like they are and maybe that's a good thing. The situation with my father has taught me two lessons. Not to fuck around without protection and not to set your heart on someone because if you do that you'll get hurt eventually.

We have to protect our heart, for it's the only one we are ever going to have…


End file.
